Dead of winter, desolate grey
White and silver home
Climb the staircase, spiderwalk
Into my bed and bonesCan I stand the pain
Of all the things I've left behind
Caught with butterflies
We'll be regretting 'til we dieShe's walking out on meDarker early, four o'clock
We'll leave in a balloon
Thirteen crows are dragging
You and me up to the roof
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